Levels of Despair
by pineappleSAMBA
Summary: America must leave England behind for a time and may or may not return. Our Arthur will have to take a long journey down through the different stages of conflict. Multi-chapter story.
1. Departure

"Please...don't go..." England pleads, his wet face buried in America's shirt.

"Arthur...it won't be forever...I promise..." America whispers into Arthur's messy blonde hair. He gently rubs England's back, attempting to soothe the sob-shaken body. Arthur's eyes are swollen from hours of crying, his pale cheeks adorned with tears. His whole body wracked with uncontrollable wails and cries.

"How long will it be...?" the Briton asks, hoping for it all to be just a game, a mean joke that could be forgotten.

"I don't know Arthur...and to be honest, its a possibility that I won't come back." Alfred says, wincing a little at the miserable cries coming from the small body as it tries to bury its agonized face deeper into Alfred's chest.

"Why...? England mutters drearily, eyes looking at Alfred in disbelief, looking for an excuse for it all to be over and done with.

"Iggy...I'll come back. I'll get back as soon as I can, I swear. And if I don't come back," he pauses, taking the time to lift Arthur's chin towards him, "I want to let you know I must have died loving you more every second, thinking of you every moment you weren't there. It'll be okay." Alfred reassured, wiping tears from Arthur's face, only to be replaced by unending streams of them. He leaned down to kiss him, arms wrapping around the frail waist protectively. Alfred takes the initiative and deepens the kiss, salty tears mixing with the taste of bitter coffee and sweet tea. They break apart, foreheads resting on each other.

Arthur's cries recede a little, clinging to America for all he was worth. Alfred could only sympathetically hug back, feeling overwhelmingly guilty for bringing such despair to his little lover.

Arthur sniffs a few times and then his brow furrows in confusion.

"You just don't care, do you? Do you?! You always leave me!" Arthur screams shoving America away completely.

Already used Arthur's rapid mood changes, he doesn't take it to harshly.

"Iggy, I-" America doesn't get to finish because he is preoccupied with blocking and dodging a series of blows from Arthur.

"This is all your fault! All you think of is yourself! I hate you!" Arthur yells still struggling to land a blow on the American. Alfred grabs a hold on both of England's wrists restraining him from trying to lash out more. Still speaking between broken sobs, Arthur protests.

"Unhand me this instant, wanker!" he shouts, trying to yank his hands from Alfred's grasp.

"I didn't want it to come to this Arthur..." America says before pinning Arthur's hands above his head against the wall, completely overpowering him. England struggles, twisting and shouting colorful curses at Alfred, tortured screams ripping from his hoarse throat.

Keeping Arthur's wrists in place with one hand, he stroked the Briton's cheek with the other. "How could you say that? I love you more than you'll ever know Arthur...I thought you loved me too..." Alfred says sadly, seeing Arthur's look of regret appear instantly. Alfred lets go, turning his back on a distressed Arthur. America takes his glasses off and wipes his own silent tears away, much different than England's violent cries. He hears Arthur's stifled whimpers, obviously trying to hide their sorrow. England lunges at America, hugging his waist tightly, forehead on America's back.

"I-I'm sorry...I-I do love you..Its ju-just.."Arthur trails off, choked wails returning.

Alfred returns the embrace, turning around to hug England back. He patted his hair softly, kissing it occassionally.

"Shh...It's okay," America coaxes, just like trying to soothe a small child.

"I-I'm so sorry...I..." England stutters, his face in his hands.

"Shh, I understand," Alfred says, tilting England's chin up towards him, giving him a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay. I promise." he comforts, giving Arthur a peck on the lips. He picks him up bridal style and carries the small body to a couch. America sits on it and place England gently in his lap, treating him like a fragile doll as England curls closer to the American.

"I'll miss you..."Arthur mutters, head resting on Alfred's shoulder. "I'll miss ou too," Alfred says in agreement, kissing the top of Arthur's head.

England then realizes how exhausted he had become. He lets himself start to doze off in America's arms, grinning a little sadly, knowing that Alfred wouldn't leave until he was asleep. He was safe for now. He opens his green eyes again one last time to see a smiling Alfred mouthing "I love you" before finally surrendering to slumber.

**Author's Note:**

my first attempt at posting angst. yeah yeah I know England is really emotional and stuff but I was in a really crappy mood when I wrote this so don't tell me that he's OOC because I already knew that. Oh yeah I forgot to mention, America is leaving because of a declaration of war with Iraq. I'm sorry if I offended anyone with this but I couldn't think up of a better idea so go ahead and be mad at me for that but I won't respond or care. Don't worry, England will travel through the different levels of despair:

1. Denial  
2. Anger  
3. Panic  
4. Sadness  
5. Acceptance

Ne, if you want this to continue, please review. I have many more chapters of this but only post if people like~


	2. Denial

**Author's Note:**

haha finally a new chapter! I got lots of good reviews so i tried to not make this suck too much...i had writers block for the longest time and ive been working on another fic too. mayhaps check it out "Latvian Wedding". gah i have writers block for everything but you probably don't care so i'll shut up and let you at least try to attempt to not completely hate this. I'm off to wash my hair in boiling water now.

* * *

_"You just don't care do you?! Do you?! You always leave me! This is all your fault! All you think of is yourself! I hate you!"_

England's words echo bitterly in the back of America's mind as his flight leaves the barren road.

He honestly didn't mean to go to war with Iraq. It just sort of...happened. It couldn;t be helped. His country needed him.

Alfred and Arthur were ever so close at this time. They had at least been together as a couple for a year now, finally getting over their differences and becoming open to each other. Well almost open, for Arthur never really showed his actual feelings and it broke his heart to see his pouty brit become so emotional. He hadn't seen Arthur so heartbroken since...._that _time.

More guilt piles on poor Alfred as he remembers that day, the one seared into the back of his mind. A shattered England on the battlefield, screaming and sobbing and cursing. Alfred closes his eyes in regret. _Maybe it is my fault..." _he thinks. He shakes his head tries to settle his mind on something other than Arthur, probably crying alone now, with no one to comfort him.

---------------

England awakes in cold sweat and a hoarse throat from screaming. He had a most terrible nightmare. He had seen his beloved Alfred be killed right in front of his eyes.

His dream had started out alright, just him and his fairy friends sharing tea in a nice meadow. Suddenly, several fighter planes entered the scene and screams rang throuhgout the valley. Arthur frantically looked around for signs of help, but he turned to see Alfred jump in front of him before a series of bullets hit him, blood splattering around and on him. His hero, terminated right in front of him. This only brings more despair to poor lonely Arthur, who can only hope this doesn't happen.

At this time, he notices he is no longer on the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before, but in the very bed that he and Alfred shared. A blanket was still lain on top of him loosely, probably the American's doing. The pillows still smelled of America, giving a fresh round of tears to Arthur. He hugs Alfred's pillow, breathing in the distinct aroma that he longed for. Arthur curls up as tight as possible, trying in vain to find at least some form of comfort. He cried ever so softly, trying not to lose control like he had the night before. So suffered was he but even so, life would have to carry on the gentleman thought, so he literally forced himself out of bed and stomped out of the bedroom.

"Fuck it all..." he mutters, going to start a pot of tea.

---------------

Arthur watches the boiling water in the teapot. Simmering, popping, steaming. He wishes he could pop so easily, just explode and never think twice about it. Just let life happen, come and go with whatever was thrown at him. To seethe and just become relaxed, but of course, this was an impossibility for him.

He pours some of the liquid into his cup, putting the small bag of herbs inside to brew. He blinks wearily and sighs, wiping tears from his face.

"I don't care about that bastard," Arthur thinks sourly, glaring at the tile floor. He picks up his tea to find his hand trembling, spilling some of the piping liquid onto his hand. England throws the cup in response, hissing in pain. He watches the cup shatter against the wall, tea splashing hideously against it. His knees buckle and he falls apart, sobbing again and just trying to make himself believe that he didn't care. But he just can't.

* * *

**Author's Note (again):**

OTL I know, short chapter. Don't kill me okay? Reviews keep me going, so review if you want to see more of over emotional Iggy…next chapter: Anger.

oh yeah, i wrote this piece of poo while listening to the song "Festival of Asylum". it inspired me, and i also wrote most of this during Algebra so it probably sucks. sorry but i promise the next chapter will be longer and more emotional.


	3. Anger

**Author's Note:**

NARWHALS!

* * *

England stormed out the house, not even bothering with bandaging his wounded hand. He slams the front door behind him. Deciding that it would be best just to go to work and pretend nothing happened, he drove to his meeting with the allies in seething anger, hoping to vent to one of his subordinates.

----------

When England arrives, he notices everyone else is already there (save for Alfred) waiting for him.

"Somebody is late, aru." China says, a little astonished at the Brit's tardiness.

"Fuck off," Arthur growls, glaring for effect.

A little hurt, Yao sinks back into his chair, instantly regretting saying anything to the gentleman, for he was obviously still upset over Alfred's departure.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning _Angleterre_. Or was it that there was no one to wake up to?" France sneers, enjoying Arthur's pain.

"You think I care bastard?!" Arthur shouts, slamming his hands on the table. Francis cocks and eyebrow and replies,

"Well judging by that outburst, _oui._"

"Tough shit, because I could care less!!" Arthur screams hoarsely, throat still sore from crying. New tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Even Russia was surprised at this point, for this was an extremely bad mood to be in, even for England.

England sits in his chair with petulance, muttering dirty curses under his breath. He glares at America's empty chair, imagining him being there, probably going on about being a hero and such. He snaps back to reality when he hears Yao talking to him.

"Are you alright, aru? You are crying, aru."

Arthur blinks in bewilderment and lifts a hand to his cheek. He was. He wipes them away and takes off without saying anything. Arthur just runs, not going anywhere in particular, just away from where he was.

-------------

America stares at the roof of his tent, tired of tossing and turning for hours on end. All he could think about was Arthur. He wondered how long it would take him to get back. For the infinitely numerous time, he thinks about Arthur, where all of his worries were focused. He imagines him cursing and screaming and throwing things around at anyone who dared even look at him. Alfred sighs sadly and once again tried to fall asleep. The American tries to sort out the possibilities. He started to fantasize about going back to find that Arthur didn't care anymore. What if his lover felt betrayed again? Alfred frowns deeply at the thought of the word 'betrayed'. He hadn't really betrayed Arthur, it was for the better. He did see England more than he would have if he stayed a colony. He did notice he was in love in Arthur sooner than he probably would have if he stayed farther away from him. Surely he couldn't have felt betrayed. Alfred was a hero in fact!

Maybe he would be able to sleep better if he just thought about past memories that had been good with Arthur instead of dwelling on the bad ones. He remembers when Arthur baked him a cake for his birthday the last year and almost forced the pungent material down his throat. Alfred smiles sadly at this thought. What a terrible cook Arthur was, but it was one of the qualities that Alfred loved about him most. His extremely rare smile, his pouty attitude and of course, his _immense_ eyebrows. There were also the things Arthur hated of course. Coffee, France, crinkled clothing, and the rain. It was not strange that England disliked the rain, it was the essence of sadness and it had been raining when _that _happened. It was actually ironic that it rained so much at Arthur's house. Maybe it was just fate or maybe it was it just cruel karma.

These are the thoughts that our also lonely Alfred falls asleep to, and dreams of terrible cooking and bitter-sweet rain.

* * *

**Author's Note (again):**

HAPPY BELATED HETALIA DAY!

Anyways, I think this chapter turned out pretty well! What do you think? I promised more emotion and I think I supplied it, but if need be, correct me. Reviews will keep this going and with no reviews, I'm worried that this story will die off just like we all will eventually...

Next chapter: **Panic**

Background music: "Blind Justice"


	4. Panic

**Author's Note:**

OMG I AM SO SO SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! I've been drowning in homework and I had a softball tourney this weekend so yeah. This is sort of a short chapter, but at least there's some emotional Iggy in it, da?

* * *

Arthur stumbled into his house, feeling a bit foolish for going and suddenly leaving the meeting. He shakes off the feeling and sits on his welcoming couch where he had lain just a mere night ago. England sniffs a little and wipes at his weary eyes before seeing a group of his fairy friends looking at him with deep concern.

"I'm not really in the mood for talking if that's what you're here for," Arthur says solemnly, completely knowing his friends well enough that they came here for him.

"But that _is _why we're here, Arthur. You need comforting," A little brownie sat upon England's knee. She smiled sadly and gestured the other creatures to join her.

"I do not!" Arthur protested. "This is all his fault anyways!" He was still a bit angry at the moment. His arms were crossed and his glare was quickly deepening.

"See what we mean?" said a purple fairy in her high-pitched voice, resting on Arthur's shoulder. "Just let it out. I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards."

Arthur took a moment to consider.

"Well...I suppose it would be good to talk about it." His brows' furrowing ceases and he looks thoughtful. "You guys were right...I'm sorry I lashed out at you," England gently pets the unicorn's nuzzle and all of the mythical creatures nod in agreement.

An awkward silence reaches the room, Arthur trying to sort out all of the confused thoughts in his mind. Sighing reluctantly he admits, "I-I guess I am a _little_ worried about him..."

All of the other creatures, used to Arthur's tsundere-ness, resisted the urge to roll their eyes at the 'little' placed before the 'worried'.

"I mean, w-what if he's not okay? What if he's already dead?" Arthur asks fearfully, shuddering at the thought and a lump was beginning to form in his throat. He folds one hand close to his chest. "What if he doesn't miss me?" he continues, "What if he never comes back? What if-"

"There are a million what-ifs, England," the brownie acknowledged.

"Yeah, and a million possibilities...any of those could be true!"

"I'm sure he's fine, England."

"Well, what if he's not?" he asks shakily, almost shaking.

"England, calm down. Its okay, just slow down for a minute. Remember, he said he would come back."

Instead of saying what he usually would, something along the lines of "Wait you were watching that?", he closed his eyes and replies. "I-I'm sorry," He runs his hands through his unkempt locks. Tears leak out as he sighs.

"I'm really scared...I...I hope he's alright..."

He hears an arrogant giggle.

"You're always going on about his faults and stuff. Why he's a jerk for leaving you, because he's stupid or whatever. It's different every day, England. Who cares?" scoffed the pink pixie that really wasn't one of Arthur's favorites.

"I do," Arthur mumbles, getting up from his seat to go lie down and just think, leaving his enchanted friends behind.

---------

Alfred winces slightly when a man bandages his fresh wounds from the day. Sure it stings, sure it burns, but it was much less painful than his emotional and mental pain he had at the moment. Not that anyone but him could tell anyway. _"This is nothing compared to what he's going through probably,"_ he thinks to himself, frowning in worry and thought.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the man tending to his wounds asks.

"Oh it's nothing a hero can't handle with! Haha!" Alfred says behind a fake smile.

"Good for you sir." the soldier pauses from tending to the wounds and has a look of anguish on his face. "It is too bad that I left my family behind for this, sir. For my country, my rights. I am in deep regret, but I believe it was for a good cause, sir. Alas, I am glad you do not have to suffer so, sir." the soldier finishes bandaging the wounds and smiles sadly.

"Yeah...I guess," Alfred looks down on the eager soldier, envying his courage.

"Thank you soldier. You've taught me something. You may go now." America directed.

"Yes sir!" the soldier saluted and was on his way, leaving Alfred to his lonely tears and the sad daydreams of Arthur.

* * *

**Author's Note (again):**

Alright, I am not going to lie, the next chapter is going to be late most probably. Alas, in the next chapter, I will have to use Scotland and Ireland...I 'm going to make them MAJOR jerks so don't kill me for being racist, because I'm Scottish myself. Oh yeah, should I make one of them a girl? I know in the comic it says they're all boys but I can't help but think that girls can be a little more harsh than guys at times...what dost thou think? Review and I might use your input for later chapters~

**Next Chapter: **Saddness (hooray for more crai crai iggy~)

**Background Music: **"Be My Escape" by Relient K (pffft actually listening to English music for once)


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